


Good Money

by happy_birthday_diane_use_a_pretty_font



Category: Archer (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, One Shot, implied cyray
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 07:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20597117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy_birthday_diane_use_a_pretty_font/pseuds/happy_birthday_diane_use_a_pretty_font
Summary: A summary of how Ray went from a well-respected judge to blowing space truck drivers.





	Good Money

**Author's Note:**

> The man at the end could be either Cyril or Krieger, it's up to you :)

"Your destination is on the left."

Ray sighed. There was no parking on _ the left _; both the driveway and lawn of the sprawling ranch house were littered with police vehicles and loitering officers. Shuttles, K-9 units, they'd even brought out the sex crimes division, and it appeared that they were determined to accelerate the already rampant light pollution crisis, for every vehicle was flashing its red lights. Ray hadn't been a judge very long, but he was already disillusioned. It seemed that the newly appointed tended to receive the short end of the dick, and were first on the list for situations like this: a technicality had been overlooked, and he was told to meet the officers at the scene to sign a warrant.

Ray parked in front of the house across the street from the bust. 

"Your destination is on _ the left. _ Didn't you hear me?"

"Ugh." Ray muted his car's navigation bot. He couldn't stand its personality, but it was a state of the art program that came with any car over three hundred thousand credits, so he really didn't have a choice. Unless, of course, he got a cheaper car.

But a judge has gotta have a nice car, right?

The moment he stepped outside, he was accosted by Detective Ponder brandishing a tablet at him. 

"Sign right here."

"Yeah, this actually ain't my first time at the rodeo." He pressed his finger to the screen, watching it buffer until the familiar contour of his fingerprint appeared on the screen, glowing bright green. Signatures had long since replaced by this less-forgeable technology. 

"See ya Monday."

As E.Z. signalled for the K-9 unit to enter the house, he said, "Could you stay, actually? There's one more on the way."

"For what?!" 

"Well, we _ were _ following a lead on a pending investigation. Turns out this place is a well known crackhouse, which we'd suspected. What we didn't realize was that it's also a lesser-known whorehouse."

"So?" Ray was tired, and just wanted to go back to bed. It was the third month of the bilunar calendar on Cygnus X, which meant it was as dark as midnight every day until at least the rainy season's solstice. The perpetual nighttime made Ray's delicate sleep schedule imperative to his sanity.

"So, the whores don't _ live _here, just work. D.A.'s gonna forward me warrants for all their apartments, homes, pods, name it."

Ray watched as several scantily clad women were paraded out the door, and felt, somehow, like a traitor. 

To be quite honest, he didn't see the point of terraforming other planets just to build ranch houses and arrest women for something he didn't even think should be illegal. The basis of society was, after all, the use of currency in exchange for goods and services. If someone had the currency, and these women had the services (frankly, the goods, too, more often than not) what was the harm?

Arms crossed in a failed attempt to conceal his pink silk pajamas, Ray leaned on the police van and watched the women hop in, magnetically cuffed to the walls. One woman - blonde, with a short bob - poked her head out. 

"Who the Hell're you?" she asked, in a voice like a trumpet.

"Who's asking?" Fuck it.

"Why aren't you in here with the rest of us?"

"Why should I be?"

"'Cause they're arresting first and asking questions later! Anybody who was in that house is going straight down to the station."

"Yeah, well." An officer held out a tablet, and Ray pressed his finger to it without reading the document. Her eyes widened as she realized Ray hadn't been a customer from inside the house.

"Oh."

"Uh-huh." Ray took out a thin metal tube and held it to his lips. A cloud of vapor billowed out of his mouth when he exhaled. "Remember when these were made of, like, tobacco? And paper?"

"They still make those."

Ray raised an eyebrow. "That's illegal."

"I'll tell you where I get 'em, for total lifetime immunity."

Ray couldn't help but smile. "What's your name?"

"Trinette McGoon!"

"What kinda name is that?"

"Irish. You know, like from Earth?"

"I thought that was a state in the Bytor district."

"Different Ireland." She sighed. "I'm saving up to go there. The original, I mean."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Well, I was. No way I'm ever gonna be cleared for interplanetary travel, now."

"Yup, that's a longshot. You probably shouldn't have, y'know. Committed crimes."

Trinette rolled her eyes, but had a hard time staying mad at the man in front of her. He seemed harmless, even ditzy, judging by the fact he was oblivious to the remnants of green face mask under his eyes.

"Y'know," she said, imagining him without the mussed hair and stubble, "You could make good money doing what I do."

"I already make good money doing what _ I _ do."

"Yeah, but I bet it's no fun."

Ray's stomach sank. She was right. He'd been avoiding the thought for years, but it was true, he didn't enjoy the work.

"It's justice."

Trinette scoffed. "Yeah, talk to me about justice."

He was feeling wildly defensive, considering how little he cared for the job. "The law - "

"You a natural blonde?"

"Yeah, so?"

"They love when the curtains match the drapes."

"Carpet."

"Yeah, whatever. Point is, if you worked out a little bit, an educated, classy guy like you? Broad-shouldered_ and _ discreet? You have no _ idea." _

Ray watched E.Z. bark orders at his squad, then wipe sweat from his brow. 

"Y'all're probably gonna be last on the docket tomorrow morning."

"Great," said Trinette, unenthused. 

"Yeah, it is. 'Cause by then, everybody's so tired and sick of their jobs they just wanna go the hell home, and nobody's gonna pay a damn bit of attention to whether I give y'all three lunar cycles in jail or probation."

She started to respond, but the van door closed. Ray looked up again to see E.Z. pointing the remote in his direction. E.Z. clicked another button, and the driverless vehicle scooted off toward the police station. 

The next afternoon, after sentencing Trinette and her friends to a year's probation, he allowed himself a single glance at her as she strode out the door. She was looking back at him, and when she caught his eye, mouthed, _ "Good money!" _

Ten years later, Ray came into work, openly hostile toward the new district attorney, like he was every day, and pretended to be surprised when she was hostile back at him. He'd long since graduated from toeing the line to stomping on it, jumping across it, moonwalking all over it, and his colleagues had yet to notice. Until now.

E.Z. waltzed into Ray's chambers without knocking, as he always did. Ray didn't look up from lazerclipping the delicate limbs of his bonsai tree.

"Man," E.Z. said, "I don't even need this." He indicated toward the small device in his hand. 

"What the hell is that?"

"Drug test."

"For who?"

E.Z. held out a small touchscreen. It was a warrant, already approved. Bored, Ray pretended to skim the words in front of him, pausing when he noticed his name. 

Oh, shit. 

"What is this?"

E.Z. shook his head. "I don't even need this," he repeated, "I can smell the marijuana on you from here."

Ray licked his lips. He needed a way out, but of course, there wasn't one, at least not one he could think of while stoned. 

"Who signed that goddamn warrant?"

"That's none of your business."

"This is ridiculous. I'm - "

"You're nobody."

Ray blinked, shocked, then corrected, "That's 'You're nobody, _ your honor.'" _

"Alright, _ your honor. _ I might as well throw you that bone since you won't have that title much longer."

"Bone throwing - is that what this is about? You got a grudge that I didn't call you the next day?"

E.Z. held out the small device, a pod with a needle at the end, and a screen the size of an old Earth coin. Results were displayed on this screen within seconds of a sample being taken.

"Prick your finger, now."

"No."

"You realize that's just as bad as coming up positive, right? And that I'm going to have to arrest you, and you'll be charged with contempt, right?"

"Y'know what I have to say to that?" He stood, in all his broad-shouldered glory, but no matter how he adjusted his posture, he was no match for the rugged creature before him. Agility would have to be his advantage. 

"What?"

"Captain Ponder, I regret to inform you that you're going to have to catch me first."

They stared at each other for a moment - E.Z. because he hadn't put two and two together, Ray because his reflexes were dulled - before Ray darted past the captain and out the door. 

He was vaguely aware of shouting, and of footsteps behind him, no doubt officers in hot pursuit, but the forefront of his mind was occupied by a strange, unfamiliar emotion. As he burst out into the pitch-black darkness of midday, he realized it was excitement.

The small, windowless room was hazy with equal parts rose-scented incense, tobacco smoke, steam from the teakettle. The nostalgic sound of a genuine vinyl record emanated from the corner of the room, filling the rather tight space with the high, sweet sound of a Chinese _ erhu. _ Pink and gold wallpaper and various intricate tapestries didn't help the claustrophobia, but there was something to be said for the intimacy. 

Ray was stretched out on the salmon-colored, velvet chaise lounge, smoking a strong-smelling cigarette from a long holder. The mix of tobacco and hashish made his mind a little foggier than usual, in turn making it difficult to come to a decision about the prospective client standing before him. 

"Drop the robe," he said. The man obeyed, and clearly took this as a good sign, for he smiled.

It was a nice smile, Ray supposed, but there was just _ something _ about this guy. He was good looking, no doubt about that - wavy black hair, blue eyes like crystals, and rock hard muscle as far as the eye could see. On top of this, he obviously had money, since proof of income had to be displayed at the door, and Ray was the most expensive of all. He’d even shown Ray his MediChart, confirming that he was free of STDs. On the surface, he was the perfect client.

But there was just... _ something _ about him. 

"Sorry," said Ray, "It's not gonna happen."

The dimpled smile fell. "What?"

"It's just not a good fit, Mr. Archer."

He was at a loss. "You're a prostitute…you can't _ turn down _ clients, unless they're, like, repulsive!"

Ray had identified the _ something _. "I'm not a prostitute, I'm a courtesan, which means I can accept or turn down anyone I damn well please. And even if I was working a street corner, I find your arrogant, outta-nowhere sense of entitlement repulsive enough."

"You can't - "

Ray drew a tiny gun from an inner pocket of his kimono. "Um, I think I just did."

Fuming, Archer left through the heavy curtain he’d entered through, leaving it slightly ajar in his rage. One of his crewmates was standing just outside, and judging by his cheap attire, waiting for one of the girls who offered cheaper packages. He was a fair distance away, but Ray instantly liked the look of him: well groomed and intelligent, bordering on nerdy. It would be a shame to let him settle for a lap dance, or worse, a handjob…

Ray tucked his gun back beneath the sheer, hand-embroidered fabric, then checked his reflection in his tortoise shell compact mirror, verifying that his eyeliner was sufficiently sharp and his lips were the ideal shade of crimson. He looked perfect, of course, and couldn’t help but stare for a moment to regard his hair - finally long enough to tie in a topknot - before looking back up at his prey.

The man was peeking into his room, because of course he was. How could he not?

Already smirking, Ray indicated for him to enter.

"Shut the curtains behind you, honey. And drop the robe."


End file.
